


Moonlight Memoirs

by MyWhiteKnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Creature bond, F/M, Magical Bond, Mates, Romance, Soulmates, remione - Freeform, werewolf mate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10076375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWhiteKnight/pseuds/MyWhiteKnight
Summary: It is common knowledge, amongst those within the werewolf community, that we mate for life. Wizards and muggles, alike, have speculated, researched, and fantasized about this fundamental fact of our lives. Within these pages, my mate and I wish to show to the wizarding world what it really means to be a werewolf and his or her mate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been meaning to write a Renmione story. For those of you who are curious, this will start in third year, and include no physical intimacy until Hermione is of age. I hope you all enjoy this, and I will try to update all my other stories soon. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The character and places are all JKR. The plot is the only thing I can claim. It is one that I had been working on for a bit, and bears a resemblance to projectrunwayluver’s My Soul's Mate. I have talked to them, and they have given me their permission to write this piece, despite the similar premise. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

_“Wolves are one of the few nonmagical creatures known to mate for life. Coincidentally, the werewolf also exhibits this trait. It is known that werewolves are able to have romantic associates with multiple individuals, though these are typically of the temporary, carnal variety. When a werewolf chooses a permanent romantic interest, they ignore all others. Little is known how or why this person is chosen.”_ \- S.P. Willinger III, _Treatise on Magical Creatures_ (1745) 

. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - .

I became a werwolf quite young. At first, my family knew not what to do with me. My father, part disgusted, part distraught, brought me to every healer, potions master, and magizoologist he could afford or pull strings to meet. My mother, a muggle, could scarce believe that her little angel now became a horrible, flesh eating monster three days a month. At first, they fought tooth and nail to find some way to cure me, or, at the very least, lessen my pain. 

After the first month, my mother could no longer look me in the eye. By the sixth, my father could barely bare being the same room. After a year, they gave up all together. Three months later, they stopped pretending to be interested in me. As my second year dawned, they could not even muster apathy, instead displaying their blatant displeasure at my condition without censure. It was at this point that I stopped convincing myself that they loved me unconditionally. I observed these changes with growing dispassion and detachment, books my only solace. 

I had a cellar outside the house dedicated to my full moon nights. Wrought iron shackles and chains held me to the ground. Silver bars blocked my exit out of the doors, and I could not get in nor out. The keys to unlock the things was cast of silver so that I could never unlock myself, no matter if I were human, cognizant, and in the possession of opposable thumbs. To be frank, my life sucked. Quite horribly. During those three days, I lived down there. My meals and water levitated to me, cell magically cleaned. 

Not until I turned ten did we hear from my sire, the infamous Fenrir Greyback. He wanted me back before I could attend Hogwarts. Out of spite and principle did my parents fight against his claim on me, and even then, it was for themselves. Not me, never me. I am ever grateful towards Albus Dumbledore, for he saved me from my spot between a rock and a hard place. Never did I want what he offered more than that moment. The headmaster offered me freedom, the ability to learn like every other child, and, most importantly, somewhere safe. 

With great excitement and relish did I greet the first of September the following year, eleven and ready to start the newest chapter of my life. Despite the jubilation and relief that filled me to the brim, I could not bring myself to talk to others as easily as the other boys my age. They jumped around or chatted animatedly with one another, boasting about wands and families, abilities and thoughts about their next, great adventure. From age four, I had been isolated from almost all other people. In short, I did not know how to act like a child. 

Upon entering the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat placed me in the ever rambunctious house of Gryffindor. This surprised me, as I have always been lonely and bookish, predicting my placement in the house of Ravenclaw. Instead, life threw me into the crucible of loud, obnoxious individuals who often erred on the side of reckless and thoughtless. Quite the difference between what I knew before. Unfortunately, I did not know how to handle my House’s energy or enthusiasm, preventing me from making friends. For a great portion of my first term at Hogwarts, this problem persisted.

My life changed for the second time as I walked down the Charms corridor. I fell into a Slytherin trap, the unfortunate victim of some prank meant for an unsuspecting first year such as myself. Unable to get out of the pitfall, I scrambled about for a time until three boys, whom I knew from my House to be James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, ran to my aid. They commiserated with me, helped me, and became my first friends. They became the core and basis for my pack. No longer alone in the world, I could jump for joy. 

The following seven years were the best of my life for quite some time. 

I had friends who, when they figured out my furry, little problem, accepted me. They became underaged, illegal, unregistered animagi to help me three days a month. With their support and brotherly love, I became more social, outgoing, and displayed my inner Gryffindor recklessness on more than one occasion. If I did not stop them from bullying others, especially one Severus Snape, I tried to reason myself that I could not. My wolf recognized James and Sirius as the leaders of our impromptu pack. To go against them would be unacceptable. If a particular prank were crueler than should be, more malicious or reckless, it was all I could do to shut up. 

Just as I could not stop the two from doing anything, my small actions spoke behind their back of my disagreement and dissent from their opinions. I would heal the others involved, or give Poppy Pomfrey the counter curses and jinxes for the havoc my friends made. I even went so far as to arrange and mediate a private meeting between Severus Snape and Lily Potter nee Evans after their falling out in fifth year.while the boy uttered a slur, calling her a “mudblood,” he had been under great duress and the need to maintain appearances, something I understood all too well. Despite my cajoling, his obviously heartfelt apology, and all of the logic we could muster, the daft girl could not forgive her oldest friend here. This deficiency in ability to understand what so plainly faced her diminished my already grim outlook on my future. If someone as loving and kind as Lily could not find it in herself to forgive someone who protected her so whole-heartedly as Severus, how could I ever find someone to truly love me?

Around this time, we began to study what the ministry categorized as ‘dark’ magical creatures in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Despite my love for my lessons, an affinity with the library, and enjoyment in a good book by the fire, I never had the desire to read about myself. Therefore, I never knew until that day that werewolves could find what is termed as a lifemate. I knew we could have mates, of course, but magically destined, other-half-of-our-souls, unknown until we see them romantic crap? Never even crossed my mind. Yet, the assent and agreement I felt from my own wolf convinced me of this singular fact. Somewhere, I had a mate, and that single thought made me pause. Maybe there was hope for me.

For a time, I researched this possibility until I knew nothing else. I rarely spoke to Lily after the way she dismissed someone who genuinely cared about her and her wellbeing. This made James, and by default Sirius and Peter, less agreeable. I did things with them, and they with me, but we began to grow apart. The curse of the lone wolf, so they say. This gap only increased when Sirius tried to use me as an unwilling part of a prank to scare Severus. Instead, he put the both of us in great danger. While I forgave him, eventually, since James saw fit to save the Slytherin from me, I no longer felt as if I could trust him implicitly. The unfortunate situation was that Sirius held the same opinion of me. While we would do almost anything to help each other, we were pack, after all, suspicion littered our relationship.

Then Voldemort attacked.

Muggle killings, werewolf attacks, magical families wiped from the face of the Earth. These acts and worse were perpetrated in the name of Magical Purity, some ideal that made absolutely no logical, nor logistical, sense. The last happy memory from that time was that of Lily and James getting married, a desperate act of love in the bleakest of times. Shortly after, however, Albus, the one who rescued me from the dark cellar and locked bedroom, requested I tried to learn about the werewolf packs and try to get them to fight for his side, the Light side. 

By this time, I was jaded. I could see the strings the wizened wizard plucked at, a master puppeteer manipulating his marionette with skill, grace, and discretion. A sense of ill ease and pessimism wound it’s way around my mind, slowly strangling my self conscious. I could see the logic, the need, behind the headmaster’s actions, but it made me no less wary of his intent and almost careless use. One can imagine my great distrust of having to immerse myself into a culture and way of life I avoided like the plague. He wanted me somewhere unreachable, unattainable by all but him. Yet, with all of my misgivings, I left on the mission, and began gathering intelligence.

And did I learn. So much of what we know as wizards is grossly false. There are basic things, such a physiology and basic ‘defensive’ strategies that are easily observed. What we missed, completely, I began to see, was how life could be in symbiosis with the wolf. A wizard is taught to fight the change, fight the inner wolf, with all of our mental power, to calm our urges, smother our emotions, and be in control at all times. While important when dealing with humans, the culture is as rich as any other I had experienced. Full mythology and theological beliefs that just made wolf sense are hidden within every good, decent pack. 

Perhaps the most coveted stories told to the children before bedtime, over a roaring fire, is that of a wolf and it’s true lifemate; the one person made for their soul, their other half. While all mate-bonds develop many aspects and abilities, reading the other’s mind, finding them, the desire to protect and provide, empathy links, only the lifemate is a complete compliment. Magic is stronger between the pair. Their abilities are farther reaching, more powerful, and come naturally. They are said to know and feel each other in a slight way before the bond is even intimated. A type of harmony is instantly struck between the pair, and, most shockingly and tragic of all, is that when one mate dies, so does the other. A normal mate cannot long outlive their counterpart, but have the ability to forge another mate-bond in it’s place. This cannot be said for a lifemate. 

I sat, all the while, in shock and awe. The alpha pair for the pack were lifemates, and you can see. From the matching mate marks, to the way they interacted, their very beings proclaimed as much. So, for the first time, I allowed myself to dream an impossible dream. 

When my time with the pack came to a close, I returned to Hogwarts and Dumbledore, body littered with many new scars from jockeying for position in the pack. Upon my return, I learned several key factors. 

One, James and Lily Potter were killed at by Lord Voldemort. Which lead to two, Lord Voldemort died from a rebounded Avada due to the blood wards enacted around their son, Harry, at Lily’s sacrifice. When Sirius found out, it lead to point three, him in Azkaban under the accusation of him being the spy since he was seen killing Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles on a street shortly after the death of Lord Voldemort, Lily, and James. Four, shortly after I had left to my mission, Severus Snape joined the Order as a spy. His confessed reason was due to the disgust and desire to defect. The unofficial assumption was that his ardent, long lasting love for Lily Evans could not stand the thought of her dying, even if she were happily married to his worst school bully. When asked later, by myself, why Severus truly defected, he told me the following:

“As you know, Lupin,” he sneered, obviously annoyed by my Gryffindorish persistence and insatiable curiosity, “While I am no longer in love with Lily, nor have I ever truly believed in the rhetoric spouted by the pureblood aristocracy. I must say, that you have had something to do with this choice.”

You can imagine my surprise at such a declaration. I persisted some more, the proverbial dog with a bone, and wanted to hear his reasoning. He did not disappoint.

“Honestly, Wolf,” the exasperated sigh before a moment of silence, when his dark, penetrating eyes were fixed upon me. I knew, by this time, how to mask emotion and thought behind a reasonably calm, politely interested facade. Yet, he found whatever he desired to know and continued, “You are one of the only people who have ever understand and trust me, oddly enough. Between our mutual siding on important events, I ascertained you to be fairly tolerable, intelligent, and decent judge of character. If the Light side was so important as you seem it to think, a truly educated mind will look into it further. I make no mistake, and know that our beloved headmaster is just as manipulative and ruthless as the ex-Dark Lord. However, his future is far more to my taste, as it actually appeals to my logic.”

This conversation softened the blow of losing the whole of my self-made pack within one meeting. From this time, Severus and I had a cordial relationship behind closed doors and privacy wards. In front of others, especially a certain twinkling-eye’d headmaster, we chose to remain barely civil to one another, not wanting to give the meddlesome Albus another string to tug. 

For the next ten years, I stayed to the back of society, taking the odd jobs and researching as I could to make such a book as this. A part of me, not just the wolf, alway felt on the look out. What if I had a lifemate and I found her? For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to date, even something as inconsequential as a one night stand from a muggle club or pub. No one seemed quite right, and I could never quite place why. While the invention, and my subsequent monthly use, of the wolfsbane potion helped me cope, I could not hold down a steady job, nor any self confidence, for any amount of time.

Odd things began to happen after that point. My wolf would whine and be restless during the oddest parts. He would talk to me about how something or someone needed him, needed us. I found myself thinking upon his words. Potential meanings flew through my mind. All the while, I would meet Severus at a muggle Pub near the Leaky, as I tended several nights a week. He complained, quite extensively, about what the “Potter brat” and his idiotic side kick would get up while the bushy-haired know-it-all got on his last nerve, trying to be the hero just like he at school.

On one particular occasion, as I rubbed down a glass, I casually, and amusedly, pointed out that I did not know what he meant. That earned me quite the death glare.

“Just like you, Lupin,” he growled when finally able to speak. “While not in charge of the little band of troublemakers, she answers every bloody question, takes the blame for their stupidity, and drags them along so they do not fail. All they need is Longbottom to join their little band, and it’s quite the same as your friends.”

“I must say, they sound quite a bit better than us,” I pointed out mildly. “They have yet to actually pull a prank. Besides, I quite remember a certain someone who decided to be quite demonstrative of their intellect.”

“Yes, and a fat lot of good that did,” he grumbled, unable to fight the point. 

This brought me all the way to First of September, Nineteen Ninety-Three. The day that my whole life shifted for the third, monumental time. I found her. 

You may ask why this whole, long, dry recitation of my past? Surely, I could expand on certain events, or even pull back at other times. Add a bit of dialogue or action. However, what I want show, in my portion of this book, is how I changed from a jaded, self-loathing, fatalistic, pessimist to who I am today. Still jaded, but loving life, myself, and, perhaps most importantly, my lifemate. I wish to illustrate how something so basic can change everything about the life of another. That true love can, in the actual, real world, trump all else.

My name is Remus John Lupin, and this is my story. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have three other stories up and about, but I hope you each enjoyed this story. As I said at the beginning of the story, I will be updating the others soon, just had the bug to write this one and hopefully post it. This story, unlike the rest, will be simultaneous updated on both FF.net and AO3, where my pen name is the same; MyWhiteKnight. I will be posting my other stories to FF.net upon their completion in regular intervals. 
> 
> I appreciate and will return to as many comments and reviews as possible. Enjoy the rest of your day, and I’ll try to update as soon as possible!


End file.
